


Otherwise Engaged

by MusicalLuna



Series: Unmade Anew [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff, Kissing, Mantling, Mild Sexual Content, No Sex, Wingfic, sunset
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 09:41:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9433484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicalLuna/pseuds/MusicalLuna
Summary: Clint and Darcy make a little time together on the roof one evening.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [windscryer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/windscryer/gifts).



> a future-drabble for my fic unmade anew written for samurljackson
> 
> this was the ship that got me into avengers :)

It’s dusk in New York City and Darcy’s standing at the tippy top of Stark Tower with Clint at her back and the blinding liquid gold sun setting over the Hudson River, coloring the streaks of spun-sugar clouds overhead fiery shades of magenta and peach. Stark Tower may not be the tallest building in New York, but it’s nothing to sneeze at and the wind is a _bitch_ up so high. It’s whipping past hard enough to make her eyes water and even with her hair pulled back into a sloppy bun, she’s still getting strands in her eyes and mouth. But the sunset is one of the more spectacular ones Darcy’s ever seen and Clint’s hand on her shoulder feels like a fire-brand.

He leans forward so his chest presses against her back, warming her even through the layers of clothing she’s wearing and Darcy lets her eyes flutter shut when he runs his fingers along her hairline, smoothing the loose hairs out of her eyes, because he can’t see her do it.

She tries to stifle the shiver that goes up her spine, but between Clint’s fingers and the chill of the wind, it’s a losing battle. “You cold?” Clint says in her ear and she shivers again.

“…maybe,” she mutters. His replying smirk is so smug as to be tangible and she rolls her eyes, but doesn’t bother resisting when he wraps his arms around her and pulls her back, flush against his body. Darcy bites her lip at the feel of his shoulders bracketing her ears, the lean hard planes of him against her back, and the roughness of his jaw against her neck and ear. Her cheeks are still burning from the wind, but she is not complaining, nope, not a single complaint.

Then there’s a soft rustling noise from over Clint’s shoulder. His wings curl forward around them until she can see the sunset peeking through the feathers, but the broad feathered expanse of them blocks out the rushing wind, surrounding her in warmth and a muted kind of quiet.

“Better?” Clint asks and Darcy’s not sure anyone except maybe Natasha or Phil would hear the genuine note of anxiety under all of his macho smugness. Even after this long, he’s still so ridiculously insecure. She turns in his arms and loops her arms up and around his neck, standing on her tiptoes to do so.

Clint huffs in amusement and his eyes slide to meet hers, hesitant. Darcy shakes her head. “You are the most perfectly ridiculous man ever,” Darcy announces, and then kisses the shit out of him.

The noise he makes when her lips hit his is startled, which, hey, point for Darcy because that’s not easy to do. Then he makes a small, breathier noise when she darts her tongue around the delicate line around his mouth where in meets out and his arms tighten around her. One hand cups her ass and hoists her up onto the cement edge all around the edge of the roof and a little thrill of fear zings through Darcy. The hand she’s got wound into Clint’s hair tightens and he breathes out sharp through his nose. Then its his tongue in her mouth and Darcy’s the one making needy, encouraging noises.

“I love you, you idiot,” she pants when Clint drags his mouth away from her lips and nuzzles into the crook of her neck. Her breath catches when he presses it to her throat, wet and hot and— “Okay, okay, seriously are we going to do this, like, right here?” she demands and then whimpers when he moves to the other side of her neck, callused fingers tracing over her collarbone, so light it makes her tingle all over. “Oh my god, _Clint—”_

“Well, _that’s_ handy,” comes Tony’s voice and Clint’s open-mouthed kisses slow, but don’t stop.

“You asshole!” Darcy hisses, punching Clint’s shoulder. He grins into her skin and she punches him again. “Oh my god, you absolute jerk!”

She hears Tony shift his weight and then he drawls, “So, Steve sent me to call you to dinner. I can tell him you’re _otherwise engaged_ , if you like.”

Darcy shoves open a space between the gigantic feathers of Clint’s right wing and glares. Tony’s got a hip cocked, his hands in his pockets and he looks utterly unimpressed by her annoyed expression. Yeah, she’s probably not that intimidating with Clint _still_ attached to her neck and her face all flushed from ridiculously hot making out. “Did you want an invite, or what?” she shoots at him.

Probably not the right thing to say to Tony Stark in retrospect because he seems to take that as an invitation and gives her a lazy grin, his eyes going dark and smoldery and he has really got to stop doing that he has a _wife_. “And make your boy toy feel bad?” he says.

Clint finally straightens up, and his wings flare back, leaving Darcy exposed to the cold all over again. She shivers and wraps her arms around herself. “Jesus, yes, we’re coming,” Clint snaps.

“Not yet you aren’t,” Tony says cheerfully and then flees before Clint can find something to hurl at his head.

Clint sighs and mutters something extremely uncomplimentary about Tony’s parentage. At Darcy’s back, the sun has gone down completely and the sky overhead is a dark misty blue. It’s definitely cold now and she leans into Clint’s chest, pouting. “Carry me,” she orders him and Clint snorts. He kisses both her cheeks and then, much to her satisfaction, obliges, and hoists her into his arms. She wraps her legs around his hips, her arms around his neck and then kind of…rolls against him. Clint makes a satisfyingly strangled sort of noise, his hands clenching around her thighs.

“Maybe we can just grab some food and go,” he suggests, breathlessly.

Darcy grins. “You read my mind.”


End file.
